How to Save a Drowning Kindle

Few things in life are more delicious than, after a stressful day/week/month/year, drawing a hot bath, pouring a glass of seltzer water on ice, grabbing your Kindle (or other, inferior e-reader device), and settling in for a relaxing soak of the tub.

Until that relaxing soak turns deadly. Your across-the-tub caddy fails, dumping everything good in your life into the piping hot bath water. When this happens, you grab for the Kindle first, realizing after there probably was a risk of electrocution, but whatever.

Once on dry land, your Kindle will still be full of water. If your Kindle is under warranty, now is the time to play coroner and call the time of death. If it’s not under warranty, prepare for CPR.


Cry. Cry like a baby. Bawl your eyes out. You were already stressed to start out with, and now you have to deal with this. So let it all go. You’re not just crying over your water-logged literature; you’re crying over all the stuff you didn’t cry over earlier.


Pry. Pry off the back plastic piece of your Kindle very carefully, using something like the weird nail file/curvy thing that’s attached to your fingernail clippers. Be careful to not scratch the plastic to all hell because there’s a chance your Kindle will be alive after this trauma. And as with people who’ve been in traumatic, injurious accidents, doctors don’t want to make them any worse. Be a good doctor. Who are we kidding? Be a good nurse. Nurses do all the work anyway.


Rice. If the back of your Kindle is open, do not shove your device straight into the rice. You’ll gunk up the motherboard and other shiny things and wires in it. No, instead, get a flat baking dish or even a cookie sheet, and line that puppy with rice. Then, lay a thing piece of fabric over top of that — something cotton, or a very thin, non-terry towel. Your Kindle goes on that, motherboard down, for two days. Do not power on. Do not touch. Do not even look at. Your patient needs rest.

(If your Kindle is under warranty, you can shove the whole thing in a bag of rice, leaving the back on, to see if it’ll survive. A warranteed Kindle is a surgery-free Kindle.)

The odds are not good in this situation.

But, if you’re lucky, you won’t have to send Amazon hundreds of dollars for a replacement, and your Kindle will, like magic, turn on its home screen after a while and be like, “Hey, I’m alive. Read me.” And you can. And you will. I hope that’s how your story ends.

The Sound Life’s Kindle survived an attempted drowning with no cosmetic damage, but the Bathtub Warrior thinks a little slower than before. This humorous (I hope it is anyway) blog post is not intended to be sound advice on what to do in a situation in which an electronic device meets water. Water and electricity do not mix. Rescue your wet electronic devices at your own risk. Use good, solid judgment. And may the odds be ever in your favor, or something.


The Things They Bought

From the Big Box Hardware Store:
Three bags of organic mulch (smells putrid)
One pack of plant markers for the garden (because all baby plants look the same — all babies look the same)
Two two-by-two boards (Noah’s ark?)
Pruners, for cutting back plants and pruning them for reasons I still don’t understand
Shop light and fluorescent bulbs, because who knew plants needed that much light
77-cent work apron (a very generous gift)

From the Overpriced Home Decorating Store:
A tiny owl stuffed animal, dubbed “Schnoingle” to keep its larger, similar-looking counterpart company (because we’re three years old?)

Lavender-scented car air freshener, on sale!
Two espresso mugs with matching saucers
Ceramic dish to put next to the sink to hold wedding rings so you don’t lose them and then cry
Two mismatched fabric napkins

From the Grocery Store Across the Street:
A 16-ounce bottle of Pepsi (yum)

Two cans of corned beef hash (canned meat, yum)
One slice of pound cake (yum)

From the Big Box Discount Store:
Yogurt (two kinds, because yogurt isn’t exactly the same?)

Gushers fruit snacks (again, three years old)
Ham and cheese
Convenience dinners (lazy)
Convenience lunches (lazy)
Giant can of coffee
Gift bag that the intended gift does not fit in (incompetent at understanding sizes)
Tissue paper (at least this works for the gift)
Oogled purses, but did not purchase (good job)

From the Gas Station With the Weird Entrances:
Gas, enough to fill car’s tank (a necessity)

Deli sandwich (it was good)
Two lottery scratchers tickets (worthless)

From the Internet:
Baby’s onesie with a tomato on it (for the non-existent baby)

Two books (duh)
Soil test kit (science-y stuff I don’t understand)
$65-worth of makeup from a company that probably tests on animals (shame on us and them)

From the “Corner” Drugstore Next to the Competing Drugstore:
Wedding card ($1.99, because I’m spending $1,000 just to attend)

Contact lens solution (with a coupon, because I’m not rich or anything)
Candy (duh)
Photo printout of an attempt at making a photograph look like a watercolor (only mildly successful)


Orange Things

Fall has, um, fallen.

Which means I’m doing crazy things like loading nine pumpkins into this cart and hauling them into my apartment.


And the Mister is roasting butternut squash


and whole pumpkins that fall right out of their skin


while I draw faces on clementines and force them to listen to conference calls/look like NASA employees.


We’re all really into fall here on the Sound.